


For the Right Reasons

by AnnaStachia



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Jaime faces his crimes, Queen Daenerys, Season 8 Spoilers, Spoilers, Tyrion worries about his brother, Wish Fulfillment, past jaime/cercei, slight jon/dany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 16:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaStachia/pseuds/AnnaStachia
Summary: After the war is won is Jaime faces the dragon queen a second time, to answer for his crimes as the Kingslayer.





	For the Right Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story before 8x4, and finished it after. I've included elements from the episode in it, but have diverged heavily obviously. This is my wish fulfillment fic for what we probably won't get in the show.

Jaime found himself in front of the Dragon Queen once again, facing her stern judgemental stare. He can’t blame the doubt in her eyes as much as it wrankles him She more than most anyone who has ever hated and distrusted him has every right. He is a man she grew up hearing was the worst kind of monster. The man who put a sword in her father’s back. 

“Here we are again, Kingslayer.” Her voice carries the cold confidence of the queen she named herself. 

At her side sits Jon Snow,content to play second to the queen he has come to love, despite whispers that some might prefer him on the throne instead. To her other side is his younger brother, the queen’s hand and advisor. Tyrion has found an interesting spot on the ground somewhere in front of Jaime’s feet. Lady Sansa and Lord Varys also stand by the queen to help oversee his trial. And Jaime knows this is his trial for his crimes against the Targaryen family and their rule. 

“Here we are, Your Grace,” he responds. The usual snark in his voice is missing and he can’t bring himself to smirk at his own misfortune, 

“Now our war is over, the living have prevailed. And so too have we prevailed against your sister, the false lion queen.”

“To which my brother fought on your behalf, my Queen.” Tyrion is quick to interject. 

Daenerys raises a perfect brow. Jaime thinks maybe she was made for that look. “I have no illusions that Ser Jaime fought for me. For his brother, perhaps. Or Lady no Ser Brienne whom he also saw fit to knight, it seems. Or perhaps simply for his own survival hoping I would spare him once I sat on the throne. So which is it, Ser Jaime? Why did you fight in my army against your sister’s? Against your house?”

A million responses float through Jaime’s mind, many sarcastic and likely to find him on the other end of a dragon’s fiery breath. He’s certain that no answer he gives will be acceptable to her. How could it? After all, the crimes he’s committed against her, against others. 

“I’d love to say something poetic about doing the right thing for once in my life. That for once I might truly fight for honor. The truth is, Your Grace, I’ve almost always done what I believe is right. Right for my honor, right for my family, right for love.”

“Your honest.” Daenerys remarks, sitting back in the iron throne, “Tell me, what felt right about driving your sword through my father’s back? What was right about having my brother’s children murdered?”

Jaime swallows the annoyance that always comes from those claims. Daenerys isn’t some hot headed soldier trying to get a rise out of the kingslayer by insulting his honor. She is a queen putting a guilty man on trial. More than that, she is a girl facing her father’s killer. 

It takes a moment to rein in that anger that’s been simmering and festering for the better part of two decades. They all sit, waiting, the silence handing heavy in the air. Tyrion dares to lift his eyes to his brother face, expecting. 

Adjusting his stance and finding his words, Jaime starts with a clarification. “First, Your Grace, I had nothing to do with your brother’s children being killed. That was done on the orders of my father and not by me. And I believe the man responsible lies at the bottom of the Blackwater now.”

The dragon queen looks unimpressed as she stares down at him from her throne. “So then you only stabbed my father in the back. Are you also going to claim that was done on the orders of your father?”

“Oh, no. Had my father had hi way, he would have struck the final blow against King Aerys and named himself king on the spot.”

“So then you chose to betray and murder my father. One of his own guard.”

“Do you know what they called your father, Your Grace?” Jaime’s tone is shaper, the years of defensiveness kicking in. Everyone always wanted to condemn him for what he did.

Everyone else notices too, as all eyes lock on him and Daenerys’ widen. She grips the arms of the throne tighter. Many men have died under that look.

“I’m aware of what people called my father.”

“Did you know your father, Your Grace?” Jaime tilts his head. He already knows the answer. They all know the answer. 

“I was a babe in my mother’s womb when you killed him. I never had the chance to know my father, thanks to you.” Her glare is not all that different from Cersei’s. Able to silence any with a simple glance.

“And you should thank me, Your Grace.”

His bold words startle the room into motion. Tyrion hisses his name with a warning look. Jaime can’t blame his brother, who only wants to see Jaime - the last of his remaining family - come out of this alive. Sansa looks to the ceiling, believing that Jaime has sealed his fate, and she might not be wrong

The sound of armor shifting behind him reminds him of Brienne’s presence. The great oaf of a a lady knight here to speak on his behalf to the queen. Again. He hears her take a step toward him, but she remains silent. He wonders if she’d defend him if he tried to fight his way out. She probably would, but he hopes not. If he’s lucky she’ll be the one to kill him.

Queen Daenerys stands, that murderous glare piercing him once more. Jaime’s glad that the dragon isn’t in the throne room, or he might be a pile of ash right now. 

He pushes on, ignoring the growing danger he’s put himself in.”The Mad King they called him, and they called him that for a reason. I was a member of King Aerys’ Kingsguard, a time that should have been the proudest of my life. Instead I spent my days watching the king grow more and more paranoid. I watched him sentence innocent people to death because he thought they were lying, or whispering behind his back. I watched him take pleasure and delight in burning people alive.

“King Aerys loved wildfyre and soon he relied on his pyromancer more than he did his own Hand. Any perceived slight, real or imagined, was grounds for execution. If he didn’t like how you dressed that day you were named a traitor and beheaded or burned. It was madness, and so they called him the Mad King. 

“I watched as your father burned Rickard and Brandon Stark alive as they came to plead on Lyanna Stark’s behalf. He didn’t want to listen to a word they had o say. In his mind they were already traitors and so he named them and so he executed them.

“When my father stormed King’s Landing, your father decided to take out half the city trying take down his army. He didn’t care how many innocent people died in his endeavor. In his mind they were all guilty anyway. He ignited wildfyre caches he had hidden all over the city, nearly destroying it. His last words as I put my sword through his back were the same words he had been saying for hours, ‘burn them all’. And he laughed while he did it.”

The silence that follows the kingslayer’s testimony weighs heavy on them all. Only one other person has heard this story before, the true depth of it, and he feels her hand on his arm, comforting, and giving him strength. 

Daenerys stares at him with those wide, grey eyes, almost childlike. But eyes that have also seen people burn. Eye that have given that command. She knows first hand the kind of horror he speaks of. And when she takes a small step backward he can she’s thinking back to her recent past when she nearly did the same. When she nearly burned a city of her people just to destroy her enemies. Would Jon Snow have had the courage to plunge a sword through her back, he wonder. Doubtful. Not with the doe-eyed looks he gives her. 

“You father,” Jaime continues before the silence stretches on too long, “Was a madman who would have burned the world to ash with everyone in it had I not stopped him. I don’t regret my actions that day. If anything that is one of few times in my life that I acted truly and nobley. I would do it again if I had to, and if I had to I would do the same to you, Your Grace.”

This time the queen steps forward, and Jon stands holding a hand in front of her. “That’s enough.” He says in Jaime’s direction.

Daenerys breathes and slowly sits back on the throne. Tyrion looks carefully between the queen he chose and the brother who has always supported him. Sansa also watches the queen carefully, gauging her reactions, waiting for her to show some sort of weakness.

This time the silence lingers as the queen considers all that’s been said. More than once she and Jon share a look, one that Jaime can’t quite read. He doesn’t like the wait, the death sentence should have been quick. 

“You serve your people,” Daenerys says after a long while, “Instead of your king. You witnessed your king commit atrocities and you took justice into your own hands. This is certainly grounds for treason, taking it upon yourself to be judge, jury, and executioner on your king. But,” at this she looks in Jon’s direction once more and he nods for her to go on, “As I have come to learn of late, sometimes blind loyalty can be just as harmful, and a king that cares only for his position and not his people is no king at all.”

Jaime blinks at her words, thinking he must be imagining them. Hey don’[t sound like words of condemnation. Even Varys looks pleasantly surprised, glancing in Tyrion’s way. The Imp simply seems relieved that he doesn’t have to watch his brother burn today. Maybe the queen hasn’t passed her judgement yet, and he may still yet die. 

The Mother of Dragons continues once her first words have sunk in, “I have done many things to get where I am today, and in my journey to reclaim the throne I have learned to be ruthless. I have learned that to show my enemies any mercy is to be weak. But in my time as queen, I have also been kind, and it is always those moments that mattered most to me. It was those moments when I felt most like a queen.

“In my short time in Westeros you have proven yourself a valuable ally. You abandoned your sister when she broke her oath to aide us against the Night King’s army. You rode north on your own to fight for the living knowing how you would be received. Because, as you’ve said, you do what you believe is right. Even once that war was over you stayed on with my men. You provided valuable information, and even if I don’t approve of your methods you aide in the fight against Cersei was… undeniable.”

Daenerys leans forward in her throne once more, So I suppose I have one question for you, Jaime Lannister. Do I have anything to fear from you?”

“No, Your Grace. Not unless you start murdering innocent people for no reason, I suppose.” Here he offers her the self-depricating smile he has come to rely on over the years. 

“Then you’ll put a sword through my back?” That eyebrow again, but this time her voice doesn’t carry the same judgemental venom.

“If that’s what it takes, Your Grace. Though somehow I’m not sure I’ll even get the chance.” Jaime glances at Jon Snow, then at Varys and Sansa. The queen has surrounded herself with allies who would not let her get that far. Arya Stark isn’t in the room, but he’s sure the young assassin would have no trouble taking out Daenerys the same way she took out his sister. 

‘I’m sure it won’t come to that.” Tyrion remarks.

Daenerys stands once more, folding her hands in front of her. “Then as much as it pains me, I find no evidence that Ser Jaime Lannister has acted as a traitor. While his actions may have been treasonous, they have often been for the good of the realm and it’s people. A reminder to us all that even kings and queens can lose their way. Ser Jaime has betrayed both in his service. Let us hope he feels no need to betray another.”

She comes forward, down the steps to stop in front of him. She’s shorter than Cersei, but her presence is just as strong.

“Casterly Rock is yours, Lord Lannister, Warden of the West, as long as I can count on House Lannister’s loyalty. I should hope that you consider your debts paid, because I certainly do.”

It takes Jaime a moment to find his breath. This is far more than he expected even if he had thought he might survive. The queen is letting him keep his lands, his house, his titles, and putting trust and responsibility on him. Brienne’s grip on his elbow keep him grounded, reminds him that this is real. 

“Of course, Your Grace.” He bows. “You honor me, far more than I deserve.” They are the words he’s supposed to say, a part of the script, but they aren’t dishonest. Jaime has never felt that he deserves to take his father’s place, hat he’s worthy to be the head of House Lannister. That was always Cersei, never him. 

“One could look at it that way,” Daenerys says as she takes a step back, “Or one could see it as your punishment for all your misdeeds is to live with them. You can spend the rest of your days contemplating the choices you’ve made while doing what you can to make up for them. I am not the only person here that you have wronged, but those are not my crimes to try.”

He dips his head in acknowledgement feeling the icy stare of Sansa Stark boring into him. She probably wishes him dead. She has more reason than she even knows to want it. 

“You are free to go, Lord Jaime. You are of course welcome in King’s Landing any time as my guest and Warden of the West.” She turns and walks back to the throne, Jon taking her hand almost immediately. 

 

* ~* *~*

Brienne finds him out in the courtyard watching the water trickle down one of the grand fountains. This one is a fierce lion, and will probably be replaced by a fiercer dragon soon enough. She sits next to him without a word and he lets that comfortable silence stretch between them. 

“You know,” he finally says, “I was wondering who would find me first, you or my brother.” He keeps his tone light and cavalier hoping to set the mood for the conversation. He’s had enough of somber for the day.

“Congratulations on your appointment and pardon, Lord Jaime.” Her words are as formal and careful as ever, as if nothing has changed over the years. 

“Gods, don’t call me that. Just Jaime is fine, as it’s always been.” He leans back against the bushes behind the bench, “Besides, I don’t know the first thing about being a lord. The queen was right when she called this a punishment.”

She looks at him then, her wide face furrowed in confusion, “But weren’t you raised to take your father’s place, someday?”

He casts her a lopsided grin, “I was never very good at it. Words and numbers and manners and politics. I can hardly remember who is lord of what house where. It’s why I joined the Kingsguard. It would rid me of all those pesky responsibilities. I had hoped with me in the kingsguard and Tyrion being… well Tyrion that Casterly Rock would go to Cersei and whoever father found for her to marry. Never thought she’d marry a king.” He looks back at the fountain hoping to ignore the empty feeling welling in his chest.

Despite everything, despite the fact that he had been there to kill her in the end, it still hurt. Cersei had been his sister, his lover, his twin, his other half. For many, many years she had been his whole world. His world was bigger now, but a part of it was gone forever. 

Her hand moves and she stops just short of taking his good one. 

Brienne of Tarth, an ogre of a woman with a foolhardy sense of honor and duty. Someone Jaime had come to truly admire and respect over the last couple of years. A woman, and he’s always used the term lightly, who could make him forget about Cersei. 

He chuckles remembering the few instances someone has made her wear dresses and turns to meet her once again confused stare. “What a pair we are. A lady who is the furthest thing from a lady, and a lord who doesn’t know a thing about lording.”

She joins in his laughter, giving him one of those rare smiles of her’s. When their laughter subsides they’re still smiling at one another.

It’s not the first time he’s thought about kissing her. It’s not even the first time he’s thought about kissing her in the last few weeks. He searches her face, her eyes. Her smile softens. He curbs the impulse as he usually does, glancing down at their hands so close, but not touching. 

“What will you do now?” he asks.

“I suppose I’ll return to Winterfell with Lady Sansa.” There isn’t much thought behind the decision and he understands. She’s always lived her life in service. To Renly, to Catelyn Stark, and now Sansa Stark. She’s as honorable as any knight and true to her duty. It’s what he wanted once upon a time. Spend his life in service to the king so he didn’t have to worry about anything else. 

“You do realize you’ve paid your debts, so to speak. As well as any Lannister.” He says this while looking at her large fingers. Her hand might be bigger than his. “You kept Catelyn Stark’s children safe. You saw her daughters returned home. You protected them through two wars. I can’t imagine Lady Stark could ask anything more of you.”

“Perhaps. But I don’t know what else I would do. I’ve pledged my whole life to service. I’m a knight now, thanks to you.”

_So come serve me._

The words die in this throat. It’s not what he wants. She would make an excellent knight under his banner and help rebuild his shattered house, but he didn’t want her there as a knight, just another one of the men under his command. And she didn’t want to be a lady. He could never ask that of her. He would never want that of her. 

Curse his own luck. Why was he always falling for women that he couldn’t be with. Women he would just be content to keep near while the world passed around them. She didn’t have to marry him. But she was too honorable for that, and he admired her for it. 

“Sansa Stark will be lucky to have you,” is what he says instead. 

“What about you?” She asks, seeming almost concerned with his future.

“Oh, I’ll figure out how to be a lord, find some men to order around. Whoever isn’t dragon ash at this point. Eventually I suppose I’ll marry a woman and have children that I can pass may legacy on to.”

“Well, perhaps I….” Brienne trails off in a frown. 

“Yes?” He’s quick to inquire, lifting his head to meet her eyes.

It’s her turn to cast her gaze toward their hands, pulling hers into her lap. “The north lost a lot of men, but are otherwise quite organized at this time. I imagine the Westerland must be a mess. Perhaps Lady Sansa would allow me to accompany you to Casterly Rock and help you get your affairs in order.”

The grin that spreads across Jaime’s face is unchecked, pure delight. “I can’t think of anything I’d want more.”

It’s as much as he dare say, but he can see the smile she tries to quell and the color in her cheeks. One of these days he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing her. Not today, but one day.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story. Jaime is one of my favorite characters of the series, and he and Brienne are absolutely my favorite ship. I tried to leave it open for interpretation, but when writing this I'd been writing it with the the Jaime/Brienne scene from 8x4 having not happened. I love the subtlety of their relationship, and didn't think I could pull it off with that scene having taken place here. 
> 
> I'll probably write more about how I would have liked things to have gone whether they ever had a chance of happening in canon or not. If you'd like to see more, or there's a particular character you might be interested in seeing, drop me a comment.


End file.
